


question marks atop your spine

by refuted



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:12:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refuted/pseuds/refuted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tara sneaks up on her. Tara takes her by surprise and slips into her world until suddenly she's the first thought Willow gets when she wakes. The last before she goes to bed, and everywhere in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	question marks atop your spine

**Author's Note:**

> A short little thing that's been on my mind for a while.

The café farthest north on campus, just busy enough to buffer her thoughts without crowding them completely. It's pushing May, tiptoeing into final exams, summer, summer, summer just around the corner.

Still, it's cold enough for her hands to seek the warmth seeping through a steaming cup of French roast – as nice a day as she can remember in a long while.

Willow sneaks behind her, fingers ghosting along the back of her neck as she slips between tables to sit across from her. She's all smiles when she asks about her day, like she really cares and Tara thinks she might just believe it.

How very foreign, she marvels for just a moment, as Willow blows at her tea, that their paths have crossed like this. At all, even. Tara's never really cared about people noticing her, but Willow Rosenberg (her name rings steady, a safe cadence in her mind that repeats like a lullaby; Willow, Willow, Willow). Willow is different, sends ripples down her spine with her smiles – inviting, intoxicating things that take all of ten weeks to get used to. She'd offer her the world if she could. Maybe Willow will settle for all of her instead.

Tara likes it best when she gets Willow to herself in a crowd. Like sharing a secret no one else can know; Willow looks right back at her and maybe she's thinking the same.

Maybe she looks at everyone the same way, the way the kindest person in every dimension, every universe and every reality looks at anyone and it makes Tara a little jealous that she has to share when she's not even hers to begin with.

Willow leans forward, reaches for her hand and maybe this, the way she runs her index along the curve of her palm, until it blooms and lets her clasp her hands around her – maybe this is all Tara's. She wants to tell her somehow, make sure Willow knows that she is all hers. Thinks that maybe she gave all of herself to Willow the moment she found her in a muted hallway.

"I'll come over later and we'll study," she says. "And maybe try some spells?"

"I'd like that."

They walk to class together, hand in hand like it's the most normal thing, like it's absolutely nothing when Tara thinks she might be struggling a little in trying to quiet her thoughts, steady the pulse racing into her ears; Willow's grip tightens for a just a moment, loosens and Tara meets her eyes just as Willow asks, "Okay?"

 

* * *

 

Willow never considered loving another person as deeply as she loved Oz.

Better than the man of her dreams because he was real, and solid, and kind and caring and never once thought to hurt her. Until the very, very end, Oz was perfect and hers, until he wasn't.

She doesn't once consider loving like that again because she suspects it's not a thing people ever consider. It is the farthest from her mind when she finds herself at the bottom of this hole, surrounded by darkness and the seemingly perpetual urge to sleep the sadness away. She doesn't once considering loving like that again because she knows beyond any measure of doubt that it's not in her hands to choose who to love.

(If it was, she'd have never chosen Xander. She would have coasted through junior high without a single tear if she could choose.)

Tara sneaks up on her. Tara takes her by surprise and slips into her world until suddenly she's the first thought Willow gets when she wakes. The last before she goes to bed, and everywhere in between. Tara makes her feel warm, safe and steady.

She loves it when Tara ends up walking a little closer beside her each time they go out, counting the moments until their hands brush and she can wrap her finger around Tara's index, until Tara lets her all the way in. She thinks about how she'd taste, if she'd let her try one day, and the idea courses through her for a quick moment, electrifies her as she squeezes Tara's hand. "Okay?" She says, because she's been quiet for a while.

Tara nods.

 

Tara tastes of vanilla. Tastes like melodies and felicity. Tara kisses the way she talks; tentatively, curiously and oh, so very fully when she feels safe.

  

It's quiet outside, and mostly silent between them as Tara strokes her hair.

Tara Maclay doesn't speak very much, Willow has come to learn, because no one asks her to. She's changing that.

Trying to. Coaxing the words out as often as she can, because she likes to hear her, likes the lilt of her voice and languishes in the moments she can get when Tara feels calm enough to keep from stuttering.

(Willow likes it just a little more when she can get Tara to stutter, likes to see her flush when she pokes and presses the boundaries, and loves it when Tara sighs in exasperation. Calls her an ass before she inches closer and slips her tongue in her mouth.)

"Tell me about her."

Willow looks up from her place on Tara's lap.

She's marked the day on her own mental calendar, a private anniversary that the Scoobies never talk about, and it makes Willow consider that maybe they don't even know.  

It slips out, before she can think about it, that Jenny Calendar died today and Tara nods solemnly. She takes the books from Willow, sets them carefully on the floor and stretches out on the bed. "Come here."

Where to find the words, she wonders. There's so much she wants to say; it floods her all at once and she doesn't know where to start. Knows where to end and it still hurts to think about. It makes her think about how Giles is, right this very moment and she almost wants to call him. Willow makes the mental note and tucks it away for tomorrow. For now:

"She was kind. And intelligent." The rest slips out before she considers it. "I think she might have loved me more than my mother does."

Tara stills for a moment, a beat before she continues, fingers combing through her and it feels nice. It feels safe. 

"I think I loved her more than I love my –

Willow sits up. She looks into to Tara, searching, searching, but there's no malice; wonders if she's even capable. "Is it bad if I say that? I mean, of course it is. I'm sorry, that was stupid. Not when –

"It's not stupid." Tara smiles softly. "Or bad."

Maybe she falls in love with her right there.

"You would have liked her."

Tara smiles again, fingers reaching to stroke the inside of Willow's knee as she sits cross-legged across from her. "I think so," she whispers and Willow realizes that no; no she's been in love with Tara Maclay for much longer.


End file.
